Cassie
by iamstormageddon
Summary: "This is the story of how I met Castiel. She's an angel, in every sense of the word." Fem!Destiel fic, with only Cas as a female. Reviews are love! :) My first Supernatural fic.
1. Chapter 1

The silence was heavy with anticipation. I turned the grip of the knife over and over in my hands, the point of it digging into the wooden table I was sitting on. To tell the truth, I shouldn't have been bored, but I was. We'd been waiting for a damn hour. The demon (called Castiel, apparently) would show up soon. It had to. We had done everything. Well, Bobby did everything.

"You _sure _you did the ritual right?"

He glared back at me, as if he were offended the thought had even crossed my mind. "Sorry," I apologized quickly.

A few more seconds of quiet. Suddenly, the windows of the anti-demon-graffiti-ridden shack began rattling. _Just the wind, _I reassured myself as I glanced around nervously. The roof panels started thumping, flapping up and down noisily. The lightbulbs in the overhead lamps began popping, one by one, and Bobby and I dove for cover from the flying fragments of glass and wire. Over the ruckus, I noticed the door, barricaded with a plank of wood, was shaking, unsteady on its hinges. I grabbed my rifle from the table, and Bobby did the same. We glanced at each other uneasily before aiming for the clattering door. All of a sudden, the wooden plank snapped in two, and the doors swung wide open. _Shit, _I thought. _It's back to Hell for me. _

To both Bobby and my surprise, what emerged from the outside of the shack, moving slowly toward us amidst the shower of sparks and broken glass, was not a monster, a vampire, or anything that looked remotely close to a demon. Actually, it was a pretty normal-looking chick. Probably about my age, with dark hair tied up in some sort of bun-type thing and piercing, blue-gray eyes. A knee-length trench coat cinched around her waist covered a white button-up dress shirt. Completing the very odd and misleading outfit was a tight black mid-thigh-length skirt and a bright sapphire brooch pinned on the left breast of her coat. She kept advancing, eyes locked with mine, and I heard Bobby's rifle fire. The bullet pierced the girl's stomach, but no blood came from the wound. She didn't even flinch. I fired my gun in turn, and the bullet hit her neck but instantly vanished as if it was never there. The panic was definitely rising by that point, and we shot our guns over and over again, but she just kept on walking, kept on staring at me. Finally, I threw my rifle down and picked up a knife from the table. I wielded it in one hand, and the girl finally stopped in front of me. No emotion was displayed on her face, and I could swear that her eyes were seeing into my soul.

"Who are you?" I hoped that the demon couldn't see how much I was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

She looked me up and down, and I was fully prepared for her to transform into a hell-rat with wings or something, but instead, she simply replied, "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Her voice was even and straight, with barely any variation, but it resonated around the room like a triumphant echo.

I slowly drew the knife out in front of me. "Yeah?" She didn't reply, visibly at least. "Thanks for that." Drawing my knife back, I thrusted it forward into her heart. I stepped back quickly, preparing for a violent death. For sure, that would kill this bitch. But instead, she just glanced down slowly at the knife grip sticking out of her sternum, placed her hand around it, and pulled it out, unfazed. She dropped it to the ground and looked back at me, one eyebrow raised.

My eyes widened, and I glanced over at Bobby, who had a similar expression on his face. Yet, I noticed the crowbar in his hand, and with a grunt, he swung it at the girl's head. Without even looking at Bobby, her hand shot out, catching the crowbar mid-swing. Turning sharply, she faced Bobby and lightly touched three fingers to his forehead. I saw the light go out of his terror-filled eyes as they closed and he crumpled to the ground, the crowbar clattering against the floor. I backed up about three steps. If she did that to _me_, too, who knows what she'll do then? Rape me? Kill me? Send me back to Hell?

The girl took a step away from Bobby and turned back to me, emotion still devoid from her face. Can this chick feel _anything? _"We need to talk, Dean." I just stared at her, dumbfounded, and she glanced from Bobby's unconscious body and back to me. "Alone."

Overwhelmed with concern, I pretty much completely ignored her and knelt down instantly next to Bobby, taking his pulse, feeling his forehead where she touched him. The bitch better not have killed him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her move over to one of the tables, pick up a spell book, and start flipping through it, stopping at a few spots to peruse thoughtfully. "Your friend's alive," she said monotonously without looking up.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel."

Of _course _she's Castiel. What am I, retarded? "Yeah, I figured that much. I mean, _what_ are you?"

She set the book down and turned her head to look at me. Her eyes looked as if they were made up of about ten different shades of gray and blue, and they held onto mine and wouldn't let go. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

I blinked. Is she serious?

She eyed me, saying nothing more, her gaze unbroken by my (probably visual) disbelief. Denying it fiercely in my mind, I stood up slowly, keeping eye contact. "Get the hell out of here," I ordered her coldly. "There's no such thing." She's definitely lying. Angels are kid's stories, fairy tales. I think by now you've caught on that I'm not the most religious guy out there. I think the idea of Heaven and God is a bunch of bullshit, but who am I to judge? There's, like, _countries _dedicated to that belief. But still, I'm not buying that crap. She's a demon. If she thinks she can just trick me like that, she's dead wrong.

Taking a step toward me, the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "This is your problem, Dean," Castiel told me informatively, as if _she_ knew the inside of my mind better than me. "You have no faith."

Nothing happened, except for those previous words lingering in the air. Then, I heard the deafening sound of rolling thunder, and then lightning a few seconds later. _Zap, zap,_ over and over,right outside the door. The blasts illuminated the inside of the shack, and from the light, I could see shadows projected against the opposite wall of two tremendous wings. The shadow-wings looked like they were spreading slowly out from Castiel's back. They flexed and fluttered, just as if they were a part of her body, and for a moment I was frozen with terror at the awful sight. Then, just like that, the thunder silenced and the lightning stopped, and the shack was dark once again.

I breathed hard, trembling. "Some angel you are." I told her, torn between wanting to throw Bobby over my shoulder and get the hell out of there and wanting to viciously stab her again as many times as possible. "You burned out that poor woman's eyes." It's funny, because when I mentioned that, she dropped eye contact for the first time, looking down at the floor. After a moment, though, she picked her head up, glancing around the shack before training her eyes back on me. "I warned her not to spy on my true form," she said, and this time I could hear the tiniest hint of an emotion in her voice. Something like remorse, but not as mournful. "It can be…overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice. But you already knew that."

It suddenly connected in the back of my mind. "You mean in the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?" She nodded slightly. "Sweetheart, next time, lower the volume."

Castiel seemed a bit disconcerted by the term of endearment, but she pressed her lips together tightly and nodded again. "That was my mistake. Certain people, special people…can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them." She paused, only for a second, eyes searching mine. "I was wrong."

Hearing that load of bullshit kind of set me on edge. She calls herself an angel, but she pops out some innocent woman's _eyes? _"And what _visage _are you in now, huh?" I asked her, feeling the anger start to rise. "Holy…tax accountant?"

I don't think she got the joke (she doesn't seem like the humorous type), but instead looked down and examined her own clothes, adjusting the belt on the trench coat, straightening the brooch. "This is," she said, meeting my eyes again, "a vessel."

I couldn't believe my ears. "You're _possessing _some poor bitch?"

"She's a…devout woman, she actually prayed for this," Castiel explained, as if it were the most normal thing a person could think of.

Who the _hell _does she think she is? "Well, hon, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

She cocked her head to the side a bit, taking on a bit of a quizzical look. "I told you," she reminded me.

I nodded, still denying all of it. "Right." I clucked my tongue and narrowed my eyes. "And why would an _angel _rescue from _Hell_?"

She let that sink in, and took a step towards me. "Good things _do _happen, Dean," she said softly.

I just glared at her. "Not in my experience."

The quizzical expression returned. "What's the matter?" she asked in a low whisper. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

"Why'd you do it?" I needed the real reason that Castiel wasn't giving me.

She lowered her head a slight amount, as if she were bowing. "Because God commanded it," she said authoritatively, enunciating each and every syllable. "Because we have work for you."

"That's not the only reason. Give me the _truth._"

She blinked, for probably the first time in three minutes. Spooky. Taking another very small step towards me, she closed the gap between us. Hasn't she ever heard of personal space?

"You interested me," she said quietly, looking up at me. She was at least a couple inches shorter than me, but I could still feel the commanding power that she had. "You fight for the same thing that I fight for, but you don't serve the same God that I serve."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Angels kill demons, Dean. That's what we do." She showed no anger, yet no contrition on her face. "We both hunt down the servants of Lucifer, but you don't believe in the one who commands it to be so."

I shoved past her as I went to go gather my knives. "Because he doesn't exist."

Castiel didn't reply to that, and I kept my eyes fixed down at the table, sorting the weapons and objects to get ready to leave. I wasn't going to listen to this bullshit anymore.

"Nobody else listened to me," she said suddenly, voice barely above a murmur. I looked up to find her staring at the adjacent wall, lost in thought. "I was the only one who believed that you could help us."

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not going to help you…"

"That's _exactly_ what you're saying." She glared at me. _Now _we're seeing some progress with the emotion. "You can just take Bobby and leave. I won't bother you any more. Someone else will surely…fit the requirements."

I glanced down at Bobby, who was wide awake in a sitting position on the ground. "How long have you been conscious?"

"Since five seconds ago," he grumbled thickly. He frowned at Castiel. "What the hell happened?"

"Nothing. Let's go," I told him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him up. Stuffing the knives and guns in the burlap sack Bobby brought along, I slung it over my shoulder and headed for the broken-down door of the shack, when I realized something. Turning back to Castiel, I asked warily, "Wait…what requirements?"

She crossed her arms. "Lilith."

I was confused. "Yeah…what about her?"

"She intends to bring the Apocalypse onto the world."

Bobby rubbed his temples. "Like…zombies and shit?"

Castiel shook her head. "Much, much worse. If she succeeds, the Apocalypse will break open the gates of Hell, and Lucifer will walk free on Earth." She paused, taking a deep breath. "And only the Lord knows what will happen then."

I glanced from Bobby to Castiel. "So I'm supposed to stop her, right?"

She nodded. "You and your brother."

Nobody moved. Castiel cocked her head slightly to the side again, kind of like the puppy-dog look that kids give you sometimes. She probably doesn't even know what that is, though. God, her eyes are a _really_ weird shade of blue.

"Fine." I don't even think my brain told my mouth to agree to it. "I'll do it."

"Your brother has to concur as well."

I laughed a bit. "Have you _met _my brother, sweetheart?"

The uneasy expression returned to her face at that last word. I'll just go out on a limb and say she hasn't been in many romantic relationships before. "No," she replied, "but…I'm sure he'll be similar to you."

Bobby chuckled outright. "Oh, sister, you're in for a surprise."

Visibly confused, Castiel just stood there, nodding very slightly.

"Okay, so…" I interjected, having mercy on this poor, socially awkward girl, "when do we start this, er, quest?"

"When the time is right."

I grinned. "Well, that wasn't cryptic enough," I said sarcastically.

"Iter incipiam cito," she replied with a small smile on her face.

"Huh?" said Bobby.

It was my turn to look confused. "Um, that was a joke, I didn't mean for you to…you know what, never mind. We'll see you later…I guess."

She nodded, the smile leaving her face. "Goodbye, Dean. And may the Lord be with you." Just then, the thunder and lighting returned, and the shadows of her gigantic wings could be seen for just a split second before she vanished with a flash of light and a loud _crack _like a gunshot.

I turned to Bobby, grinning. "She's an interesting one, huh?"

Dumbfounded and wide-eyed, he tried to speak, but no words came out at first. "Were…did she…were those…"

"Don't worry about it. Let's just go. Sam will wanna hear about this." I handed him the burlap bag and picked up the two rifles. We made our way to the now non-existent doors. He walked out first, but I looked back at the practically demolished inside of the shack. _"May the Lord be with you," _I thought to myself before turning to follow Bobby back to the Impala. _What a pack of lies._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Howdy! If you're reading this, thank you for checking out my story! Sorry I didn't put an Author's Note in for Chapter One, but here I'll just mention a few things. First of all, thank you for the favorites and follows, and to AshleighxAwsome for reviewing! Second of all, in order for my story to work out, and to avoid just retelling the show with a female Cas, I'm **_**majorly _changing a bunch of stuff. So don't get all nit-picky with the canon details, because chances are I wrote it that way on purpose. I'll try to update twice on weekends and once during the week! Thanks again, love you all! Read and review, please! ^^_**

"_DEAN!"_

The sound of my brother shouting my name jolted me awake from a dreamless sleep. I blinked twice, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. As I tried to think of why Sam would be freaking out, I checked my alarm clock. 2:34 in the morning. God damnit. "What?" I yelled back to the adjacent bedroom.

"_Get in here!"_

Groaning, I kicked the blankets off my legs and stumbled out of bed, opened my door, and approached Sam's room across the hall. Slowly, carefully, I turned the knob and pushed open the door.

There was Sam, in blue boxers and a maroon Stanford t-shirt, aiming a handgun at the corner hidden by the door. "Little early for target practice, ain't it, Sammy?"

"Who the _hell _is this?" he asked me, his eyes narrowed into slits. Curious, I closed the door behind me and peered into the dim light of the corner he was aiming at. I could just barely make out a set of steel-blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark…

"Castiel?"

"Please tell your brother to put the pistol down," she answered calmly, eyes standing out from her pale face.

Not believing my eyes, I turned to Sam. "Uh…put the gun down." He obliged, but not happily.

"You _know _her?" he asked, his famous bitchface on display.

"Yeah. Sammy, this is Castiel. Castiel, this is Sam, my brother."

Neither of them moved. If anything, Sam just glared harder. "Buddy, she's not going to kill you. Relax. Jesus."

Dear God, I wish I hadn't said that. "Do _not _take the Lord's name in vain!" thundered Castiel, her eyes flashing red just for a split second. Her voice echoed around the house, and I even heard the sound of distant thunder.

Well, then. Girls are so hormonal.

Sam's indignant look vanished and was replaced with one of shock. "Wh-what the…"

I sighed. I'm dealing with five-year-olds. Well, God knows how old Castiel is. She looks about twenty-five, twenty-six, but she's probably been around for hundreds of years, at least. "Chill, Castiel. Heh, that almost rhymed. But seriously, calm down. Nobody's going to kill anyone. Nobody's taking anyone's name in vain. It's all good."

"What is she?" Sam was pissed now.

"I'm an angel of the Lord," she replied in the exact tone she used with me.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, sure. Angels don't exist."

Castiel's eyes flashed again. Knowing what was coming next, I held out my arms toward her. "Don't do the…It's okay, Castiel, don't do the wing thing," I said quickly. "I'll talk to him later. But for the time being, just assume for the sake of the situation that she's an angel, okay, Sammy?"

He didn't seem to want to believe me, but I can tell that he knows it's true. "Why is she here?"

I opened my mouth to answer when I realized I didn't actually know. "Um, because…she…wait, why _are _you here?"

Castiel contemplated the question for a few seconds, then answered carefully, "I can't go home."

"What do you mean?"

"But…angels live in Heaven, right?" asked Sam, confused.

She nodded. "Yes, that's right, but...Peter didn't allow me to pass back over the breach into Heaven yesterday night."

"Peter?"

"He's the gatekeeper of Heaven. Raphael told him to not let me back in for the night. That is, if I even came back to the gate at all. Sometimes I don't."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Wait, back up: who's Zachariah?"

"Zachariah is an archangel. He's my brother."

"And why wouldn't he let you back in?" I questioned.

She picked at the hem of her sleeve. "He said that I was getting too attached to the humans, and I needed to learn my lesson." I don't know if it was just a trick of the light, but I swear I could see her face flush scarlet.

"And you're just going to let them push you around?"

She chewed on her lower lip before replying, "I'm the youngest angel in my garrison. Possibly out of all the angels, but no one knows. I'm the only one that will associate myself with the matters of human welfare, so they keep close watch on me to make sure that I'm not deviating from the work I have to do."

"So…they're afraid that you care too much about humans?" Sam asked.

"Exactly."

Suddenly, I had an idea. "You're here because you need a place to stay, right?"

She nodded. "If that isn't too much trouble. I hate sleeping in trees."

"You sleep in trees?"

"It's the place where I cause the least distraction."

I glanced at Sam and back to Castiel. "Yeah, you can stay here. We don't have a guest bedroom, but there's a really comfortable couch you can sleep on downstairs."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you. That's very generous of you."

"No problem."

Sam grinned. "So Zachariah's controlling, is he?"

She nodded, smiling back. "The worst."

He flicked his fingers hard against my shoulder. "You should see Dean."

"Ow!" My shoulder stung like hell. I rolled up my sleeve and saw the handprint burned into my skin, looking even more infected than before. "Damn. I forgot about this."

Castiel's eyes went wide. "I gave you that, didn't I? Apologies. I'll fix it." She moved over to where I was standing and placed her hand on my shoulder. Her hand fit the outline of the handprint perfectly. It burned red-hot for a few seconds, and I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. After an agonizing few seconds, she took her hand off of my shoulder and stepped back. When I looked down, the skin was good as new.

"Thanks," I said, running my finger over the newly formed skin.

Sam stopped dead, eyes darting from my shoulder to Castiel. "Wait. That's the…"

I rolled my eyes. Talk about slow. "Bingo, Sammy."

"This is…Castiel?"

I nodded. "The one that busted me out of Hell."  
"_That_ rhymed," Castiel said absently, but she wasn't looking at us: she was staring behind Sam's dresser to her right, as if there was an animal back there or something.

Sam just looked at Castiel and gave her this smile, one that I've never seen from him before and never would again. But too bad she didn't notice him. She was too absorbed in what was behind the dresser, but Sam didn't mind. "Thank you," he said, very quietly, "for doing that. I really…I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't…brought him home."

"Sammy, don't make this more corny than it has to be."

"No," interjected Castiel, her eyes stormy. "Look." She reached behind the dresser and pulled out something with a fat body and a long neck that I couldn't make out clearly at first.

"Sam…what the hell is that?"

He turned away from me, reaching his hand out to graze the doorknob. "It's nothing. Put it down, Castiel."

Castiel ignored him. She turned the thing over in her hands a few times and squinted at it. "Jose Cuervo Especial," she read in a flawless Spanish accent.

Oh no.

Feeling the heat rising in my blood, I clapped my hand onto Sam's shoulder and dug my fingernails into his skin. I heard him hiss in pain. "And just _how _many bottles of that shit are back there?" I asked Castiel through gritted teeth, glaring at the back of my younger brother's head.

I heard the crinkles of glass bottles bumping up against each other as she rummaged behind the dresser. The answer came: "Fourteen."

That did it. Swiftly pulling Sam under me and into a headlock, he fell to his knees, gasping from the pressure of having his head nearly separated from his neck. "Why'd you do this to yourself, Sam? _Why?_"

"Let…me…_go!_"

"_Tell me!_"

"I couldn't…I couldn't take it anymore!" came his strangled reply. He breathed heavily, waiting for me to release him. Finally I did, and the air came in deeper gasps as his hands met the ground. "I didn't…didn't know what to do…I was…Bobby didn't want…and I just kept waiting…hoping you would…and…you didn't…" His voice, painfully weak, faded away into silent tears.

Castiel just stared at me, eyes vacant. "Four months, Dean. Four months of no one caring."

The truth of the matter hit me hard. Soundlessly, I knelt down on the balls of my feet and placed a hand on Sam's back. "It's okay, Sam. It's okay. I'm back, okay? It's going to be alright. Just breathe."

"I'm sorry, Dean," pleaded Sam, his forehead against the ground. "I'm so sorry."

I glanced at Castiel, and her blue eyes had faded entirely to gray.

"Why do humans do this to themselves?" she asked the silent room.

No one had an answer for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Five far too short hours of sleep later, I wandered downstairs to the kitchen and put on a pot of water for coffee. After I pressed the "on" button, I peered into the living room, expecting to see Castiel sleeping on the couch. Instead, I found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor surrounded by small piles of the books from our rarely-touched bookshelf. The trench coat was gone, thrown over the side of the couch, and her hair fell in slightly matted waves down her shoulders. She looked frozen in concentration, as if she had turned to stone.

"What'cha reading?" I asked cautiously.

She turned the page, a swift flick of the wrist. "Great Expectations," she replied without looking up. "By Charles Dickens."

"Cool." I leaned against the doorframe, watching her eyes scan the page. "Sleep well?"

"No."

I raised one eyebrow. "The couch isn't comfortable?"

She looked up and met my eyes. Now that the lighting was better compared to the last two times we had spoken, I noticed that her eyes were way bluer than I thought. Kind of the color of the ocean when you look out from the shore as far out towards the horizon as possible. "I didn't sleep."

"How come?"

"Angels don't sleep very often. Our vessels don't require sleep energy when we occupy them."

I cracked my knuckles. "Okay. Fair enough. You hungry? There's cereal in the pantry, though I don't got a guarantee on how fresh it is…"

"We don't require food, either."

I stared at her. "Seriously?" She nodded. "Huh."

After that followed a silence that was pretty damn awkward, until she picked her head back up from the book and looked at me. "What is cereal?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Cereal. What is it?" she repeated, her head cocked slightly to one side, eyebrows furrowed.

"Um." This was actually harder to explain than I thought. "Well, it's basically grain that's, uh, processed, and then flavors are added and it's made into little tiny shapes, and you eat it for breakfast in a bowl with milk."

Though I highly doubt she understood what I was talking about, she nodded empathetically and went back to reading. How the hell do you not know what cerealis? It's _cereal_. Though I'm guessing she doesn't spend a lot of time chilling with humans down here on Earth and eating Lucky Charms.

"So how long are you cut off from the Home Office?" I asked, picking at some dried paint on the back of my hand. Sam had dinged it against another car in a 7/11 parking lot, the little douche, and I had tried my best to paint over it so my baby would stay perfect. I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to forgive Sam's trespass so easily this time.

"It depends."

"Can you give me an estimate or something?"

She thought about that. "A few weeks. Possibly a month."

"A month, huh?" She nodded. "I guess you gotta stay here, then." Another nod. "Hey, uh, if you don't mind me asking…" I said after a few moments, "…what's the plan that God has for me or whatever? What's that all about?"

She sighed and closed the book, placing it on top of one of the little piles of other books around her. "I told you," she said, standing up and stepping over a stack, "Lilith is attempting to assist the Devil in escaping from Hell. If that happens, what you would consider the Apocalypse would be upon us."

"Okay, so how do we stop it?"

But before she could open her mouth to reply, Sam's voice rang out from inside the house: "Dean!"

"What?"

It took a few seconds, but soon enough, there was Sam, panting in the doorway. He held a piece of paper in his hand, and he had a plaid shirt on that was only half-buttoned. He looked from me, to Castiel, and back to me before announcing breathlessly, "We've got a vampire on our hands."

After Sam relayed the information to us (a bar a few miles down the road has had 7 disappearances on its premises just this month, the victim always found somewhere else, their body drained of blood), we decided that the best plan of action would be to go to the bar undercover to see if we could find the vampire. After finalizing some details about the hunt and catching up on some TV shows (hey, come on, I've been gone for four months. That's a lot of TV I need to catch up with), 6 o'clock rolled around. Time to prepare.

After Sam and I got ready, a fairly big problem arose pretty quickly: Castiel couldn't go to the bar in what she was wearing.

"The point of going undercover is to blend in as much as possible," Sam had explained to her. "The clothes you're wearing right now will attract too much attention since…well, it's not really what girls wear to bars most of the time."

Castiel nodded. "What do they wear, then?"

Sam looked at me. "Dresses," I told Castiel, taking over for Sam. "Or jeans and a nice shirt, I guess. Do whatever."

She nodded again. "Very well. I'll see what Jenny has in her closet."

"Jenny?"

"My vessel," she replied. "Jennifer Novak."

Sam nodded, shifting his feet. "Okay, good. We have time to go over there, I think. Where does she live?"

"Oh, there's no need for that,' she answered promptly, and disappeared.

Sam's eyes went wide. "What? Where did she go?"

I shrugged. We stood there and waited for, I don't know, about forty-five seconds before she appeared again, wearing this skintight dress the exact color of her eyes, and it kind of shined a little. She was wearing silver heels and her hair somehow looked neater and Jennifer Novak may have been a church regular but _holy damn_ did she know how to work formalwear.

"Is this appropriate?" Castiel asked, smoothing out the wrinkles on the side of the dress.

It took me a second to process the question. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's…that's fine. Good. Let's go."

On our way out the door, I turned back to Castiel. "Jenny Novak sure seems to like blue, huh?"

She smiled a little, looking down at the ground. "Yes, it would seem so."

It wasn't that far of a car ride to Kelsey's Bar, with Sam riding shotgun and Castiel in the back seat, staring out the window and rubbing the hem of her dress between her thumb and forefinger absentmindedly. We parked easily enough, considering the tiny lot was nearly jammed, and walked through the doors without a problem. I had forgotten to consider what to do if there was a bouncer, since Castiel didn't have an ID, but we got lucky; no bouncer.

"Now, if anyone asks your name, tell them your name is Cassie," I instructed Castiel as I looked around the dance floor. There were people _everywhere. _Actually, the only area in the place that wasn't covered in bar patrons was the actual bar itself.

She cocked her head to the side a little, narrowing her eyes. "Why?"

"Because Castiel is a weird-ass name for a human, that's why. Now go look around the place, and if you see anything suspicious, go find one of us, okay?"

She gave me a stone-cold glare. "I am perfectly capable of defending myself. Vampires are rather easy to kill, in my experience."

I blinked. "Wait…you can kill vampires?"

"Yes."

I glanced at Sam. He shrugged. "Then why the hell didn't you tell us before?"

She narrowed her eyes. "It wasn't necessary."

"Yes, it was! This job would have been a whole lot easier if we knew beforehand that you can just…zap vampires into oblivion! We probably wouldn't have had to come undercover, we could have…" I stopped myself, sighing. "You know what, whatever. Just…find the vampire, and whatever you do, _don't kill it in plain sight of everyone. _You understand?"

She nodded, still looking pretty pissed. "Yes."

"Okay. Now split up," I instructed them. Castiel walked around and ahead of me, and I watched her walk away for only a second before turning and venturing into the smoky crowd of people.

Needless to say, Castiel had definitely overdressed. This was practically a strip club, except the strippers were paying the bar for drinks. I even saw one girl in nothing but her bra and panties (a little thin for my taste, but that's beside the point). This was a dive bar if I've ever been to one.

After about ten minutes of wandering around with no sign of anything out of the ordinary (apart from some shirtless dude who was _way _too old to be going around like that), I finally gave up and headed towards the bar. As I elbowed my way past a small group of middle-aged guys in cowboy boots and ten-gallon hats, though, I overheard one of them say, "Damn. That's a fine piece of ass over there, ain't it?"

"Where?" one of them asked. When the first guy pointed towards the corner of the room behind the bar, I followed his gesture until I found the girl in question. And you'll never guess who it was.

Yep. Castiel.

You know, I wouldn't exactly call Castiel a "fine piece of ass," but there she was, back against the wall, looking for all the world like she was trapped in a horror movie. Her eyes were huge and bird-like, darting around the place restlessly.

But before I could really think about it, the group of cowboy wannabes had migrated across the dance floor over to the corner. Not wanting to be noticed, I followed behind them, wary of what they were up to.

The guy who had initially called Castiel hot broke off from the group and approached her gradually. She saw him coming from a mile away and she stared at him like he had three heads.

"Hey baby," I heard him say as he straightened the collar of his button-down shirt, "nice legs. What time do they open?"

His band of goons cackled. I rolled my eyes.

He put a hand against the wall right next to Castiel's head, leaning against the wall over her. He was way taller than her, too, so he practically towered over her. She glanced up at his face and swallowed. "My legs are not places of business," she answered slowly and deliberately, and I could see that she was shaking a little.

The guy glanced back at his buddies with a mischievous grin on his face. They winked and gave him thumbs-ups, and he turned back to her. "They could be if you want 'em to, doll." He snaked his free hand around her waist and pulled her in closer, closing the gap between them. Shit. This is not good. "How much d'you want? 40? 50? I'll pay whatever it takes for a good time," he hissed, his face inches from hers, his eyes positively predatory.

"I…" Of _course _she had no fucking idea what he was talking about. "I don't…I don't understand that reference."

He laughed almost manically. "I'll give you a clue," he chuckled before pinning her arms down with both hands in one swift motion and leaning down, forcing their lips together awkwardly.

That was more than enough. "Hey, douchedick!" I called, stepping forward towards him, Castiel, and the band of goons. The guy pulled apart from her, glaring at me. "Why don't you back the hell off?"

He raised one eyebrow at me, pushing Castiel back against the wall sharply, and I flinched. She looked like she was going to cry. "Oh yeah, pretty boy?" he growled, letting go of her and taking a step toward me. Jesus, he must have been 6'5". "Wanna say that again?"

I took a sharp inhale, standing my ground as this giant shadow of douchebag loomed over me. "Yeah, I do. Back. The hell. Off."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're gonna fuckin' get it, you little faggot!" He reared back, fist aimed at my head, but not before I kneed him in the crotch. He doubled over in pain, and I quickly elbowed him in the head, making him stumble over to the side. I watched his goons back away slowly, and Castiel was just staring at me. I smiled a little at her before I watched her eyes widen and her lips begin to form my name before I felt a pair of hands wrapped around my neck. From my peripheral vision, I saw the glint of the douchebag's teeth dangerously close to my throat. Dangerously close and dangerously sharp.

Shit. Shit. _Shitshitshitshitshitshit._

The vampire was strong as hell. There was no way I could break free, I knew that, I'm not stupid. I could barely breathe as it was. But it was almost like he was biding his time. "I know who you are," he groweld into my ear, "_Winchester._"

"Fuck off," I shot back, kicking him in the shin from behind. It was useless, though. I felt myself lift off the ground, and the strain on my neck was almost unbearable. Suddenly, there was a huge flash of light, and I squeezed my eyes shut. His grip loosened on me and I dropped to the ground. When I caught my breath and glanced back up, however, there was Castiel standing over the vampire's body, a look of pure shock on her face…and the faces of everyone else in the room.

Oh, shit. I stood up and stepped over the vampire quick as a flash, taking Castiel's wrist. "We gotta get out. _Now._" She nodded quickly and we hurried toward the exit, not glancing back at the body. Sam was already outside the building, and we made a run for the Impala, not saying a word.

Once we were safe in the car, I put it in reverse and said, "Well, at least the vampire's dead." Sam laughed nervously, but Castiel didn't say a word. "And, uh, thank you, Cassie. For killing him, I mean, that was…good. Thanks."

Our eyes met in the rearview mirror. That was the first time I've ever called her anything but "Castiel." She smiled a little bit. "It's my job to protect you two. You're in my charge."

"Really? God's orders?"

"Yes."

I nodded, looking back at the road.

We didn't really say anything else until we were back at the house. Sam went up to his room before I could talk to him about anything, and Castiel disappeared back to Jennifer Novak's house to change out of the dress. When she reappeared in the kitchen, she was back in the blouse and trench coat. "That coat's a good look on you, Cas – Cassie," I told her, stumbling over my words as I filled up a glass with water from the sink.

She glanced down at herself, then back up at me. "I suppose it is, for Jennifer, at least. I am merely occupying her as a vessel."

"Well…" I trailed off.

"And you don't have to thank me for saving you," she told me, eyes locked with mine. "It's my job."

I nodded. "Yeah. Gotcha."

She smiled, thin and tight-lipped, before turning to walk into the living room for the night. I stayed in the kitchen thinking about it for longer than I'd care to admit.


End file.
